Saving People, Busting Robbers
by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: Outsider POV. Lena was working the graveyard shift when the robbers walked in. In hindsight she'd say would-be robbers because a minute after they came in, a black muscle car pulled up to a gas pump outside. Ch. 2: Dean's POV. After a late hunt, he and Sam are both battered, and all he wants is some gas to drive home. But the girl inside keeps staring at him like something's wrong.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the first real outsider POV I've written, a result of trying to work through some other writer's block and also wanting to write the brothers as being a bit more everyday heroes. Hence, this story. Set sometime after season 8, but it doesn't get into specifics. Thanks for reading!_

_Nope, I don't own Supernatural._

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The graveyard shift totally blew. Normal shifts, even filled (filled generally constituted about ten or so) with customers, some pissed at the machines, some about whatever drive they had been on, some coming in like they owned the place, were better than the seemingly never ending quiet that sunk into the walls around her. Lena didn't even know why Mackey insisted on staying open 24/7, the station was pretty much in the middle of nowhere Kansas, not many people stopped by. Sure, it was right off the interstate and about five minutes out of the nearest town, but when the interstate was deserted and the town was small, it didn't mean much.

But on the off chance someone did come in at whatever time it was in the morning before the sun was up and the pump declined the credit card, someone would be there inside to assist. Yeah, like that ever happened.

Lena glanced at her watch and blew out a breath at seeing it was just past two in the morning. Just four more hours, then Maggie would come in to relieve her and take over for the day's crowd.

Lucky for her, there was always tidying to be done around the small mini-mart next to the gas pumps outside. Gum packs needed restocking, things could be pushed around to look more orderly, there was a spider web in the corner…maybe she'd leave that for Maggie.

It was far from the best job in the world, but it was summer and she was quite literally a broke college student, so she would take what she could get.

The radio's low tones in the background were the only sound in the shop, along with her movements around the store and occasional hums along to the tunes. She didn't mind being alone, it was calming and she was armed to a degree, of course, but the hours ticked by so slowly and the only thing past the white lights above the pumps was darkness and eventual fields.

The restocking took half an hour or so, and then she moved behind the counter to wipe down. Shapes moving by the windows in front had her head immediately snapping up from the work station. Lena watched closely as two men in sweatshirts entered the store, which was strange, since they didn't seem to have a car out front by one of the pumps and there wasn't much in walking distance.

"Evening," she greeted calmly, even though it was technically morning, she didn't really care. She got a slight smirk in return from both of them, which totally wasn't unsettling at all. They were both pretty decently sized guys and she kept one eye on them until they moved to the back of the store towards the drink refrigerators.

Lena tried to go back to cleaning and organizing, but something about the men was definitely off. There was hushed conversation she couldn't quite make out, and once or twice they glanced to look at her and then at the cameras in the corners of the shop. If they were trying to be inconspicuous, they weren't doing a good job, and very slowly it began to settle in that she was quite possibly getting robbed.

One guy she could go up against, maybe, but she also didn't know what they were holding in their sweatshirt pockets, and didn't particularly want to find out.

They were in the middle of nowhere, which meant there wasn't much cash on the premises, but it also meant that Mackey hadn't swung for the latest and greatest in terms of security upgrades. The cameras were a definite bonus, but they hadn't gotten around to a panic button, which Lena was really itching for at the moment.

Another glance over at her at the register, and she quickly picked up the spray bottle and went about her business wiping down the counter. Maybe from that distance they couldn't see her hands shaking.

A thousand thoughts were flying through her mind at that very minute. What if she made a run for it? Could she get her phone out and call someone without them noticing? What if they were armed, much more that her pocket knife could handle?

Lena reached for another paper towel and looked outside just in time to hear the rumble of a deep engine before she even saw it. The guys in the back seemed too caught up in their own conversation to notice, but Lena kept her eyes on the outside as a hulking black muscle car pulled up to one of the pumps. She couldn't place the year, but it had to be classic and a few decades old. They just didn't make beautiful cars like that anymore.

That was it, if she could just get whoever's attention was in the car, maybe they could help. Except the guy that stepped out was big, probably taller than the ones currently in the store. He looked worn down, even from far away, and blinked a few times as to clear tiredness from his eyes before he went around to get the pump working. Was it worth it to try and get his attention and hope he could help?

She didn't even have to look back at the guys in the store to have made up her mind. She'd rather chance it with some possible help than be stuck with two guys who were almost definitely about to do some harm. Thankfully, the guy put the pump on automatic and came back around to lean against the driver's side door, aimed right towards the store's windows. He had moved slowly and tiredly, probably stiff from a long drive she wouldn't doubt.

Lena's hands stilled on the spray bottle and towel in her hands as the man looked through and made eye contact with her, though he was seemingly disinterested. She leveled her eyes with his and jerked her head ever so slightly, praying that he could even see it. Hell, maybe he was too tired from driving at three in the morning to even notice, she had no idea.

She pursed her lips and moved her eyes to the right where the men were hidden from the other guy's view. It was akin to screaming for help, and was the most she could do in the situation. The guys could turn around to look at her any moment, she couldn't risk doing much more.

The man was still looking at her, slightly more quizzical as the seconds passed. But then there was a click from the gas meter signaling that the tank had been filled. He looked as she tried to get across that there was _really _something wrong, but then moved back around to the rear end of the car.

That was it. He'd drive off, probably none the wiser, and she was left to deal with whatever the inevitable fallout of this was going to be. After this, she was forcing Mackey to get an alert button, for sure, no question about it.

Her hand began shaking again and she clenched it around the towel, trying to figure out what her next move should be. But more movement from the car kept her mind from getting too far in that process.

Before she knew it, the man that had filled up the car was walking in (with maybe a slight limp? She couldn't completely tell) through the door with an even taller man by his side. They had to be a foot taller than her, at least, but the sight of some other people that didn't seem to have any ill intentions was such a relief that she could have collapsed on the spot.

"Morning," the gas guy said in a low tone. He stopped in front of the counter as his buddy stayed more in the middle of the store and looked around. He looked even more tired then his counterpart, if that was possible, but she'd take any help they may be able to offer. Lena noticed immediately that the hushed conversation from the two probable would-be robbers had stopped.

"Evening," she replied shakily, not even trying to hide the tremors in her hands anymore.

The guy, the one with shorter hair than his companion, kept looking at her, but she again didn't sense anything off, more of that he was trying to figure out what the hell she had been doing staring at him through a glass window. "Things alright?" his voice dipped down to almost below a whisper that only the two of them would be able to hear.

"I think I'm being robbed. Two guys, probably weapons, soda wall," Lena said, matching his volume, and tilted her head towards the right where the men had been.

The guy nodded ever so slowly, apparently taking her seriously. "Get down, stay down, you hear?"

Lena nodded back, not sure what he was about to do, and stayed up long enough to see him gesture to his buddy, who also apparently got the message. She got down behind the counter and flipped open her pocket knife, just in case, and held it tightly. Some rustling and two clicks followed, and if she didn't know better she'd say it was the hammers being pulled back on additional guns. Four armed guys? What had she done?

"Listen up!" The shout, from the man she had been talking to, made her jump, and based on the sounds of something falling to the floor, made the other guys jump too. "It has been a long, long day. Now how's about you leave the nice fill up joint alone and go on your merry ways?"

She hadn't heard anything from the second guy, and was waiting for a response from the robbers. Her fingers were almost literally crossed that they would in fact go on their merry way and she could call Mackey before dawn demanding better safety.

"How's 'bout ya don't get involved where ya don't belong?" came the reply.

There was a sigh from the man by the counter. "I warned you," was all he said.

A single moment passed before there was more movement and a "hands up! Don't move!" from the soda wall and quick boot steps of the man from the counter moving to the back of the store.

"What are ya gonna do? Shoot us?"

If Lena had to guess, the guys from the car had the robbers cornered, or at least she hoped so.

"This can end peacefully, just walk away." It was the same voice, so the super tall guy then. A beat of silence followed before something, probably a person, hit something else, and a shot went off. Lena reflexively let out a short scream and curled further behind the counter. There were obvious sounds of a struggle, grunting, rustling, and at one point what was probably the chip rack fell over and added a menagerie of crunching to the mix.

There were a few heavy hits, some adjusting and heavy breathing, and then the rustling stopped.

"Hey kid, you okay?"

Lena's shoulders sagged in relief at the counter man's voice, slightly out of breath, but victorious from what it sounded like.

"Yeah," she said tentatively and began peeking up from the counter. The chip rack was indeed in shambles, with bags spread out across the floor. The men each had a gun out, a pistol by the look of it, and their chests were heaving, with the taller one sporting a red mark on his cheek and the other kneeling next to the body of one of the would-be robbers. "Oh gosh, they're not…"

"Dead?" The counter man stood up and winced ever so slightly before he nudged the guy with his boot. "Nah, just unconscious. Made a leap for Sam's gun and it went off," he tilted his head towards the taller man.

"Sorry." The guy, Sam, actually apologized and shot her a small smile before his hand ghosted over the mark on his face. Sorry? For scaring her?

"Sorry? You guys just…saved me," she said, to which the guy smirked back at Sam. "Thank you."

He waved it off as if it was nothing. "You should probably call the cops," he added.

Lena's mouth half fell open. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, right, I should," she shook her head, her heart still pounding wildly in her chest as her fingers fumbled with her phone, putting her knife back into her jeans pocket. As she made the report, the men tied up the robbers with some duct tape around their wrists and rather unceremoniously dragged them across the tile floor and leaned them up against the outside of the building.

When the dispatcher informed her that units were on the way and that it was okay to hang up since the threat had been dealt with, she did so and braced her hands against the counter. Lena took a few breaths to steady herself just in time for the man to come back in, leaving Sam outside to watch over the robbers.

"Help coming down?" he asked, almost nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just literally saved the world.

"Yeah, they said, um, a few minutes tops. We are kind of in the middle of nowhere," Lena nodded. "But, I mean, I've already been helped. Sorry for the, you know, weird staring and all that, and thank you."

The guy just shrugged and smiled tiredly at her. "Happy to help. But you may want to look for other employment?"

"We'll see…is there anything I can do to repay you? Beef jerky for the road or waters…I don't know," she stopped herself before more words would spill out, which tended to happen when she got nervous.

He stretched his hands out in front of him and shook his head. "No repayment needed, seriously, we're glad we got here when we did." It was Lena's turn to look at him appraisingly, and she didn't see anything beyond the genuine desire to help behind his words.

She looked back outside to Sam, keeping guard over the unconscious nutcases, when she pointed a finger. "Ice, for his cheek, I can do that." She waited before moving, just in case it was met with a 'no', but the man nodded.

"Appreciate it…"

"Lena," she smiled a little, and would've stuck out her hand for him to shake if she was sure he wouldn't be able to feel the tremors.

"Lena," he finished with a small nod. "Dean," and tilted his head, "that's Sam."

She was glad to finally be able to put names to faces, especially for these guys, and busied herself pulling out a clean towel and some bags to fill with ice from the ice cream cooler by the door. "Do you guys drive around at two in the morning saving every woman you meet?" she asked jokingly, since her nervous mouth couldn't be stopped and she was definitely still running on adrenaline.

To her credit, Dean actually chuckled, as if it were a joke only he himself knew the real answer to. "Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

Lena filled two bags with ice, just in case the first melted too quickly, wrapped them each in a second bag, and handed them with the towel to Dean. He took them and looked at them almost appraisingly for a moment, shaking one lightly in his hand. "Mind if I ask a favor?"

She nodded quickly. "Of course, anything for you guys, shoot."

Dean hesitated just a second more. "Would you mind filling in the cops on what went down? They've got the tapes, the eyewitness, the fingerprints on the guys' weapons, everything they should need…" he started slowly, "we'll hang in the car until we see the lights, just to be sure, but I really need to get him home," he tilted a bag of ice towards Sam, who was standing outside, tiredly keeping an eye on the unconscious men.

Lena's first instinct was to say no, she'd like them to stay, she had no idea how to handle cops or what to say, but she very quickly realized that after all they'd done, probably following or still in the middle of a long drive, they were just asking for a break. And with the thugs out cold, she couldn't really ask for more than that, but also had the feeling that they'd stay if she wanted.

"I'll be good," she affirmed with a nod, set in her decision. If she hadn't already been looking at him, she would've missed the almost imperceptible way his shoulders seemed to sag a bit more forward.

"Well alright then." He rapped his knuckles on the counter and transferred the bags to one hand so he could open the door. Sam looked up as the two of them exited and Lena was happy to see that the men were leaning up against the side of the store, completely oblivious to the outside world. "Lena here offered some ice for your dashingly handsome mug, as she put it," Dean said, a slight glint in his eye as he tossed Sam a bag.

Lena opened her mouth because no, that was not what had happened, but Sam smiled, seemingly used to Dean's antics. Whether they were friends or brothers, she couldn't quite tell, but they were definitely close.

"Thank you guys, really," she reiterated, making sure to look between both of them, "I don't know how many people would do what you did."

The men cast a quick glance towards each other, and she didn't know them well enough to say what it meant. "Just glad we could help," Sam assured, giving her the same response that Dean had, completely praiseless, as if it were just another day on the job. Seriously, who were these guys?

Lena didn't know what else to say other than another thank you, so she opted with "have a safe ride home" and they both told her to have a safe rest of her night.

She kept one eye on the unconscious men and the other on Sam and Dean as they made their way back to the muscle car and got in. True to Dean's word, they stayed until she could make out red and blue lights coming towards them on the horizon. She caught a small wave from Dean out the window, which she returned.

They turned out of the station, the red taillights still barely in view as the police car pulled up. Thankfully, it was Jim from the station (perks of living in a small town in the middle of nowhere was most everyone knew everyone), who she would have no problem talking to and describing what had happened.

As Jim was getting the men, who had started to lazily rouse, into the car, Lena pulled out her phone and dialed Mackey.

He answered with a gruffer voice than usual. After the last hour, she just wasn't in the mood for it, and replied accordingly. "Yeah, Mackey, I'm aware of the time, but there's cops outside the store so you should probably think about getting over here." There was some muffled cursing on the other end of the line before it went dead.

With the men in the car, Jim came to collect her statement, and Lena found herself describing how two tall men had pulled into the gas station and saved the day before it had even begun.

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_So remember how I said this was an outsider POV? Well I started writing another chapter from the Dean's perspective (kinda defeats the purpose of an outsider story but oh well) complete with the hunt background, some minor injuries, and a few small brotherly moments. I'd be open to finishing it and posting it if anyone's interested? Thanks again! Any feedback, constructive criticism, anything, on this, if greatly appreciated since it's a bit out of my comfort zone :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to Kathy, VegasGranny, and SallyBranden for your support and comments that another chapter wouldn't be awful :) back in my comfort zone with a Winchester perspective, but the outsider was fun to explore, and I have another one for season 7 in mind...we'll see if I get the time to write it. Thanks to everyone for reading! _

_Still don't own Supernatural, that didn't change from last week awh man._

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Dean should have known that even simple milk run level hauntings never went as planned. When they had finally gotten back to the car, Sam had suggested that they get rid of that term from their vocabulary, and Dean had agreed. It was as if the term itself was cursed, which they honestly wouldn't doubt.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry case in Wichita, their own state only a few hours away, but it ended up that it was the wife's sister, not the wife herself, causing the problem. Two graves and a few extra hours later, both brothers were sporting some bruises from being tossed around an old house, but the case was done. Sam, of course, ever the overachiever, had been thrown through a dilapidated wall and gotten a shock to his head. But since he had been awake the whole time and they had ruled out a concussion, just a headache, Dean felt better about driving back.

They had agreed that even though it was extremely late, though technically early depending on which day they were being asked about, that the three hour drive back to the bunker was a better option than getting a motel and trying to sleep for five hours.

So, they had piled everything into the car around midnight, Dean turned on a soft rock station, and Sam was out like a light half an hour into the drive. Dean didn't mind the silence, not at all. A passed out brother in the passenger seat, his baby humming under his fingers, and the quiet wide open road in front of him was about as close as he got to peace. If he took a look up, he'd probably be able to see the stars spread out across the sky in little pinpricks of light. Sure, when his left ankle started protesting about an hour later it wasn't the best, but he figured an injured ankle was better than a busted skull, and the pain wasn't bad, so they kept on.

Somewhere around two Dean noticed the gas gauge dipping closer to empty, and while they had plenty to get back to the bunker, he really didn't want to have to head out again the next day. Technically today? Whatever.

They had passed the I-70 junction not long ago, and Dean kept an eye out for a station off their current interstate. Thankfully one popped up not long after, lit up bright white amongst the black sparseness that was Kansas' empty night landscape. There was probably a town not far away, but nothing big or he'd have been able to see it.

He smoothly pulled the car into the station and cut the engine. Sam was still dozing in the passenger seat, head up against the window and chest evenly rising and falling. Dean opened the door as quietly as he could and got out, taking a moment to stretch before he moved around to the back of the car to put in the pump. He definitely didn't bounce back as quickly as he used to, not that he'd admit it, but going twelve rounds with a ghost and then sitting in a car for a few hours took its toll.

He was wary of his ankle as he got the car hooked up and went to lean back against the driver's side door. Maybe he could catch a minute and a half of sleep as the car filled up. He closed his eyes a few times to test that theory and nope, the lights were too bright.

Speaking of, the store itself still seemed open, with a young woman, probably around college age, working behind the register by the windows. Except, she wasn't working, she was staring right back at him. And it wasn't a tired, disinterested, staring off into space thing either. Nope, it was full on eye contact, apparently with purpose.

Dean found himself looking back, partially just out of curiosity, because what the hell was that about? It could have just been the long drive, but he could have sworn he saw her head tilt ever so slightly towards the back of the store where he couldn't see, and her eyes soon followed suit.

It was definitely weird.

He took a quick glance around the lot, which revealed no other cars, except one off to the side which he guessed was hers. He would've done more, but then the meter clicked off. Dean hesitated a moment before he went to disengage the pump. There was no way she had been looking at him that intently on accident. She needed him to notice her and whatever she kept glancing at in the store.

Which meant, if she was trying to get some random dude's attention at whatever time it was in the morning, she could be in trouble. Dean came to the realization as he was putting the handle back into the pump and opened the trunk to grab their pistols before he walked around to the passenger side.

In any other situation, he'd let Sam sleep, he more than needed it, but he wasn't sure what he was walking into. Maybe it would be nothing, but on the off chance it was something, he didn't want to leave Sam in the car undefended and unaware or get into trouble himself and have Sam too far behind to help.

Sleep be damned, seeing what was up was more important.

Dean gently tapped on the window next to his brother's head, which woke him up immediately and had him wrenching the car door open, still trying to blink sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah? What's up?" he asked, dazed, since Dean wasn't one for typically disturbing beauty sleep at a rest stop of all places.

"There's a girl inside, working the cash register, she kept glancing at me and back to the store. I think maybe there's something wrong," Dean explained. Sam, to his credit, was wide awake in seconds as the reality washed over him that maybe they weren't done saving people for the day. Dean handed him his gun, after putting his own into his jeans, and stepped back so Sam could get out.

"And you didn't see anyone else?"

Dean shook his head. "Nada. No other cars in the lot, and nobody's come or gone while we've been here."

"Alright then," Sam shrugged, gun safely tucked away before he closed the door. They both walked up to the store a bit slower than normal, half from tiredness and half from trying to case the scene if anything else seemed off. Dean's ankle flared in protest. The extra walking compared to the sitting still after a long drive with no ice was definitely not a good idea. But it would have to wait.

As they entered, the girl's eyes followed them, and Dean could practically see the relief wash over her. So there was definitely something wrong then. Dean walked up to the counter, leaving Sam by the front in case anyone decided to bolt, and greeted her.

"Evening," was all she said after, and it didn't take him long to notice how her hands and her voice were both shaking. Nope, both not good signs. What the hell were they about to get themselves into?

If she was still that freaked out even with him and Sam in the store, then whatever was causing the problem was probably still there too, maybe within earshot. "Things alright?" he whispered and leaned a bit closer to the register.

The girl shook her head. "I think I'm being robbed. Two guys, probably weapons, soda wall." She then gestured ever so slightly towards the right area of the store, where Dean couldn't quite see all the way back. Definitely possible for two guys to be hiding back there. And if they were armed, big problem.

Their first priority was keeping her safe, so he nodded and told her to get down, which thankfully she did without protest.

Dean then turned to Sam and held up two fingers, got out his gun, gestured towards it and the hidden men, and made a motion for Sam to go around.

Sam stepped towards the back of the store, having to crouch down so his sasquatch shoulders wouldn't be seen over the display racks.

"Listen up!" Dean shouted, causing a distraction so the guys would be more focused on his voice than the guy coming around from the other side to subdue them. Something actually fell, and Dean smirked at that. It meant that the guys were nervous, probably unprepared, and hopefully not crazy violent and determined. But at the same time, he'd rather not be dealing with robbers and guns anyways. "It has been a long, long day. Now how's about you leave the nice fill up joint alone and go on your merry ways?"

He was offering them a way out, and if they were smart, civil people, he was really hoping that they'd realize they had made a mistake and take the out, for everyone's sakes.

However, the reply he got was definitely not the one he wanted, and he sighed. Idiots, out here in the middle of freaking nowhere making his already tired night longer… "I warned you," was all he said. As soon as he heard Sam shout from the soda wall, Dean followed suit and came in from the other side, effectively pinning the guys.

Sam had his gun pointed at a guy in a black sweatshirt with the hood up, and a guy in a grey hoodie was facing Dean. They both had their hands up and no obvious weapons, but as Dean narrowed his eyes he noticed a definite bulge in the guy's sweatshirt pocket, which was probably made by a gun of some kind.

"What are ya gonna do? Shoot us?" It was the hoodie by Sam talking, the guy by Dean just stared at him, which was super unsettling. But his hands were steady on the gun, and even though they tried to not hurt humans, he was prepared to deal with the guy if necessary, at least until cops showed up.

"This can end peacefully, just walk away." Dean almost smiled at that, Sam being ever the pacifist. He couldn't see the black hoodie guy's face, but he doubted it was one of surrender, much like the man in front of him.

The guy facing Sam moved so suddenly that Dean wasn't able to leap forward. His hand went around Sam's gun and as they wrestled for control, a shot went off. Dean couldn't determine if it had hit anything before he was set upon by the grey guy standing in front of him. He too scrambled for Dean's gun, which he kept careful but forceful hands on, and wrenched from the guy's grasp. The guy threw his weight, bringing them both down to the floor and knocking a rack of something over in the process. He tried to lever against Dean to get the upper hand, but the hunter had both experience and weight on him and was easily able to flip over to attain a power position.

A quick hit with the butt of his gun and the guy struggling under him fell unconscious and limp, doubtful to be a problem for a few minutes at least.

Even a short fight like that, after the day they'd been through, had Dean almost gasping for breath. The weird angle his ankle had fallen at during the scuffle definitely didn't help anything. Thankfully, there weren't any more signs of a struggle from Sam's side, and a quick glance over his shoulder revealed a similarly unconscious man by Sam, who was sporting what was likely to become a nasty bruise on his face.

No gunshot wound, which was good, and a bit of worry faded from his veins.

"Hey kid, you okay?" he called over the messed up store, just in case it had ricochetted. Sam got up before he did and grabbed a roll of duct tape from one of the nearby aisles.

"Yeah," came the girl's voice, and Dean looked up from where he had been kneeling to see her, frazzled, but alright. "Oh gosh, they're not…"

Right, gunshot, robbers, all of that. "Dead?" Dean finished for her and levered himself up from the floor, not doing a great job of disguising the wince once he was forced to put weight on his ankle. "Nah, just unconscious. Made a leap for Sam's gun and it went off," he explained and gestured towards Sam.

Sam actually apologized, again, doing everything in his power to remedy the situation. It was the best case scenario for a situation like this. Dean waved off her thanks, it was just another day on the job after all, and instructed for her to call the cops.

Sam was working on taping the black hoodie guy's wrists together, and tossed Dean the tape as he knelt back down and maneuvered the guy's body over. Before he did anything, he took advantage of their kneeling positions and the girl's distraction and reached over.

He tilted Sam's head, which he allowed, a testament to how freaking tired he probably was, and assured himself that the bruise on his brother's cheek was just that, nothing more, and not likely to become a concussion on top of his already present headache from earlier. "You good?" he checked quietly.

"Course," Sam nodded when Dean's hand fell away, satisfied with his minor ministrations. "You?"

"Eh," Dean muttered and taped up the other robber, "just another day on the job."

They dragged the men out of the store fairly easily, the tile floors and limp bodies giving them no resistance, and set them up outside the store.

"Maybe we should see if there's any ice for that?" Dean asked. He wiped his hands on his jeans and stood up from where they had positioned the men.

Sam just shrugged. "Go check in, I'll keep watch," he motioned to the men. Scrapes the bruises they could deal with, but it was still another hour or so back to the bunker, maybe forty-five minutes if he pushed it, which he'd definitely be doing.

"Help coming down?" Dean asked as he walked back in, seeing that the girl was off the phone and looking a bit less shaken.

She replied that yes, there was, and apologized for staring to get his attention. Dean let out a soft chuckle and smiled at her. It was quick thinking on her part, really, and putting a lot of trust in more strangers that could've made the situation worse. Smart and a bit risky at the exact same time, just the way he did it. "Happy to help," he paused, "but you may want to look for other employment?" He wasn't in any position to suggest otherwise, but her being out in the middle of nowhere by herself past midnight with no on call backup button? Not smart, and not in a way he liked.

"We'll see…is there anything I can do to repay you?" She rambled a bit and then stopped before Dean shook his hands in front of him and assured that it honestly wasn't necessary. He was just happy they were all alright and unhurt.

But then she looked back outside at Sam and when she offered to grab him some ice, Dean couldn't say no, but found that he didn't know her name to thank her for it.

"Lena," she supplied.

Strangely, it fit her. "Dean," he introduced back and gestured towards his overgrown little brother, "that's Sam."

Dean watched her, just making sure she was really okay beyond a little shaken, as she filled up some ice bags. "Do you guys drive around at two in the morning saving every woman you meet?" She probably meant it as a joke, and Dean found himself chuckling.

It was more true than not. "Yeah, something like that." He kept watching her as a clock in his mind ticked down the time when the cops were inevitable to arrive. That would mean questions and answers he and Sam didn't really want to supply, much less be searched for in the system or be put down as part of an actual criminal investigation. They weren't in it for the heroism. He'd much rather get back to the bunker, wrap his ankle, give Sam a few painkillers, and put them both to bed for the rest of the night.

He took the bags when offered, but paused before asking, unsure of how she'd react. "Would you mind filling in the cops on what went down? They've got the tapes, the eyewitness, the fingerprints on the guys' weapons, everything they should need…" Dean started slowly, "we'll hang in the car until we see the lights, just to be sure, but I really need to get him home," he added in a gesture towards Sam. He wouldn't leave without making sure things were okay, of course, and made sure she knew it.

Lena obviously thought it over for a moment before thankfully she agreed. "I'll be good."

Dean tried to not let the relief show on his features, and tapped his knuckles on the counter before he led the way outside and tossed Sam a bag. "Lena here offered some ice for your dashingly handsome mug, as she put it," he said, to which Sam supplied a halfhearted bitchface and smiled at Lena.

The poor girl even tried to protest, but lost the steam when she saw they were just joking. She thanked them, again, even though Dean had tried to mention that it really wasn't necessary, but he wouldn't grow tired of hearing it.

Sam shot him a quick look, which he understood immediately. Sure, there was no pay, they got banged up more often than not, died on occasion, and put their lives on the line, but this made it worth it. The knowledge that normal people were able to continue their lives after the Winchester brothers had stopped by was a comfort that nothing else could offer.

She told them to have a safe ride home, which Dean would ensure they would. "Have a safe rest of your night," Sam returned, turning around one more time to make sure that the guys were still out cold.

The adrenaline had started to fade from his system, which Dean immediately noted from his ankle flaring up once again. At least it wasn't his driving foot. Thank whoever for small victories.

Sam kept hold of the ice bags when they got in the car and started her up, but Dean didn't pull out until he could see the approaching cop car on the horizon. They'd be at the gas station in thirty seconds, tops, not enough time for the unconscious men to rouse and start something, which meant it was their cue to go.

Dean waved out the window as they passed by and smiled slightly when Lena waved back. Yeah, she'd be alright.

He watched in the rearview mirror as they drove away and the cop car pulled into the station, and Dean finally let himself relax into the seat. Or he had until Sam was passing him a bag of ice.

"Dude, what?" He took a glance away from the road to ensure that Sam was indeed holding one to his cheek.

"For your ankle. Pull off, stuff it in your boot or something until we can get back to the bunker," he instructed.

Dean almost protested. Almost. But it was three in the morning, Sam was tired, he was tired, and there was no point in ignoring that his brother, well, had a point. He pulled the car off to the side and let it idle as he maneuvered a bag around the slightly swollen joint. So maybe it was more of a sprain than anything, but he'd live, and the ice did feel nice.

"Give or take forty five minutes, and then we're golden. Showers and an Advil and freaking sleep, we've earned it."

Sam let out a breathy chuckle in the seat next to Dean as he too settled in for the remainder of the journey. "Yeah, we did."

But there was gratitude behind it, not righteousness or anything of the sort. Sure, they had been born and thrust into the life, but at the end of the day, it was the one they chose. And it was the one that allowed them to make a difference.


End file.
